


Paean

by lil0urry



Series: klance songfics [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, soft boys in love, this is literally just a fluff fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil0urry/pseuds/lil0urry
Summary: “You know,” Keith started as they picked up their backpacks to vacate the classroom. “I could give you a ride, if you want.” Lance blinked, a bit confused by the offer. At Lance’s silence, Keith’s cheeks started heating up. He smiled nervously, scratching the back of his head before he continued. “To school, you know, since I got Shiro’s car when he left for college last fall. I’ve been driving to school every morning, and since we live down the street from each other, and you’re late pretty often and--”“Yes,” Lance replied, shooting Keith a small smile. He saw the other boy relax a little and grin. “If it’s not too much to ask, yeah, that would be cool.”“Cool.”“Cool.”“So I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”“Cool.”“Cool.”Or the one where Keith drives Lance from school every day and they fall in love somewhere in between.Inspired byHow Would You Feel? (Paean)by Ed Sheeran





	Paean

**Author's Note:**

> Hii so this is the first Voltron fic I post. It's for my friend Aaliyah. I hope you guys like it!

**_paean_ **

 

It was on the spring of Lance’s junior year when he thinks things started to shift. Like all things in his sleepy hometown, change came slowly. Shops closed up, new ones opened up. The trees started growing again, and the days started getting warmer. Pidge and Hunk kept talking about their SAT scores and colleges they were planning to apply to, and all his younger sister talked about was how she would start middle school in the fall, and the inevitability of growing up kept Lance up at night.

It was the crushing pressure of the future and Lance’s tendency to spend the hours between sunset and sunrise scrolling through Twitter that made him miss the bus very often. Being late to homeroom became a bit of a habit, and Lance could tell that his teacher was beginning to get a bit annoyed at it. He bristled when Lance walked into the classroom that morning. Lance tried his best to ignore him when he sat down at his desk, next to Keith. The Asian boy with his wrists full of bracelets waved at Lance with a beautiful smile. Lance smiled back.

“Mcclain,” the teacher said, startling both boys into paying attention. “You can’t keep coming late and distracting your classmates. If this keeps up, I’ll be forced to take disciplinary action.”

“Yes, Mr. Thompson,” Lance replied, sinking into his seat and listened to his teacher in silence until the bell rang.

“You know,” Keith started as they picked up their backpacks to vacate the classroom. “I could give you a ride, if you want.” Lance blinked, a bit confused by the offer. At Lance’s silence, Keith’s cheeks started heating up. He smiled nervously, scratching the back of his head before he continued. “To school, you know, since I got Shiro’s car when he left for college last fall. I’ve been driving to school every morning, and since we live down the street from each other, and you’re late pretty often and--”

“Yes,” Lance replied, shooting Keith a small smile. He saw the other boy relax a little and grin. “If it’s not too much to ask, yeah, that would be cool.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“So I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

. 　*   . .  *  ˚  · 　  
✵  * 　     +  ✹     
.   *　　　  ✷   .  ✫  
　　 　　　　　 ˚    ⊹    
　　　　　  　　. 　　　　 ✦ *

 

It was around October, Lance thinks, when things began shifting again. The trees started losing leaves, the nights got colder, the future loomed ever nearer. Lance hated going to school, where the questions about his college applications and essays and financial aid forms plagued him endlessly. Meanwhile, his house stopped offering the refuge he was looking for. Not with Mamá poring over bills, worrying over making ends meet, especially with the upcoming expenses of Lance’s future college tuition. It made his stomach churn.

Somehow, Keith had roped Lance into driving back home with him too, and started taking the long way home every day as well.

“Well, I drive past your house, anyway, it’s no big deal,” Keith had said, back in March, gesturing Lance to get in the black, beat up Honda Civic. Lance had shot Keith a half smile before stepping into the confines of the old car that would become the safe place Lance had been looking for.

Lance doesn’t know what it is about the car that felt safe. Keith wasn’t the most cautious driver. He took turns way too sharply and braked violently and sometimes went from 0 to 60 miles per hour in a few seconds. But Lance didn’t mind it, in fact, he enjoyed teasing Keith about it endlessly.

“Shut up,” Keith said after Lance commented on a particularly close encounter with a soccer mom’s van. “I’m gay, okay? You know how it goes, gay people don’t know how to drive.”

Lance laughed, a full laugh that burst from his belly and warmed him up, all the way to his toes. No one made him laugh like that. No one but Keith. Keith shot Lance a grin, a hand draped over the steering wheel, and the other one reached across to the passenger seat, to hold Lance’s hand in it.

“How you got your driver’s license is a mystery to me,” Lance muttered with fondness, and Keith hummed, squeezing Lance’s hand.

Lance doesn’t know when that started either. Holding Keith’s hand so casually in his, fingers intertwined like two puzzle pieces, fitting together perfectly. It was a comfortable weight, warm, soft. Lance’s thumb made little circles on Keith’s hand as the raven-haired boy drove through the sprawl. Lance thinks they must have drove through every single street in this suburban town, together. Sometimes talking and teasing and smiling, sometimes listening to their playlist, a mixture of Top 40 songs and the Greatest Emo Songs of the 21st century, and sometimes in silence. It was comfortable. It was nice. It was safe. It was fun. It was theirs.

Sometimes, they go back to Keith’s and work on homework or watch the newest Boruto episode or one of the Discovery Channel documentaries Keith loves so much. But most of the time, they drive around and around and around, until they run out of road. Or the sun sets. Whatever happens first.

　  　

  * ⋆ 　  　  　  
　    ˚  
　　     　✵     .  
.  ✧　　 ˚  
　*  　　　　　　 　 *　　 　  
 ⊹  ⋆ 　　. 　 ˚    ˚



 

At the end of the day, every day, Lance presses his lips to Keith’s. Oh, and Lance can tell you _exactly_ when this started. They had been driving around all day, stopping for milkshakes at the town’s only 24 hour diner. Despite the cold evening, Lance slurped his chocolate milkshake while holding Keith’s hand over the gear shift, watching their street illuminated by the Civic’s lights. And it had been such a perfect day, a quiet day. The only quiet either of them got in their lives. Lance knew about Keith’s parents’ fighting and the talk of divorce in the shouting matches that reverberated between the walls of his home. And Keith knew about the full house Lance came back to, the lack of privacy and the pressure. They both understood.

It had been a perfect day, a quiet day, and Lance never wanted it to end. But Keith had pulled over in front of Lance’s house, and he could see the lights from Mamá’s room and he should probably get the chewing-out over with. He sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching to the backseat for his backpack. He opened the door and before he stepped out, he turned to his best friend and shot him a smile. Keith had been staring at him, eyes unreadable.

“Thanks, for the ride,” he said, words heavy, laced with sentiment. He could tell Keith understood the words unsaid. _Thanks, for the ride. Thanks, for this space. Thanks, for your time. Thanks, for your friendship._

“No problem,” Keith said, licking his lips. Lance’s eyes followed the movement, feeling strangely breathless under Keith’s gaze.

After a few seconds that stretched into what felt to Lance like infinity itself, he moved to the open car door. But he was stopped by Keith’s hand that caught on his hoodie’s sleeve.

“Wait,” Keith spoke and pulled Lance back into the car, back into their space, back, right into his arms. Lance isn’t sure who leaned first, but he is sure, even now, that it was perfect. The softness of Keith’s lips, slightly cold and still tasting of strawberry milkshake, the gear shift poking into Lance’s thigh, the trembling fingers that tightened on his hair, pulling Lance closer.

Keith pulled away first, keeping a hand on Lance’s freckled cheek. He smiled, a nervous and happy chuckle escaping from his reddened lips.

“Is this cool?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

\+  　　 ✹ 　  　  ·  
　　 　.  
 .   ·   ⋆   　　  .  ·  
　  　 　　      　　  　　  
　　　　　　　   ˚ 　 ⊹   · 　  
　　　· .  .  . 　   ✦  
✵ 　　 　 　　 ˚ 　 ✵

  


When Keith texts, Lance always answers. The time is usually irrelevant, given both boys’ penchant for insomnia and, as of recently, nighttime adventures.

 _I’m outside_ , Keith’s text lights up Lance’s phone on his nightstand, flashing next to the digital clock that reads 12:15 a.m. Lance grins. It is a clear night out tonight, and Lance has been expecting this. Hoping for this. He grabs his shoes from the floor, his jacket too, and opens his window as quietly as he can, trying not to wake his little brother up. He climbs down the tiled roof and down the tree, creeps across the front lawn and gets into Keith’s car.

Keith smiles against Lance’s kiss and when he pulls away, he starts driving. He hands Lance a thermos of hot coffee with milk and three sugars, just the way he loves it, which he receives with a thankful smile. Lance doesn’t even ask where they’re going, because by now, he knows. He watches Keith sleepily, sipping his coffee, Fleetwood Mac playing from the tinny speakers of the Civic. The town fades behind them, and they drive for half an hour straight until they reach The Spot. A hill far enough away from all the light pollution, overlooking the fields that stretched on forever. Lance sighs contentedly and hops out of the car. He helps Keith unload the two foldable chairs they borrowed permanently from Hunk, while the other boy sets up his photography equipment, pointing the camera at the sky.

Lance watches Keith fiddle with his Canon, connecting it to his laptop that sits atop the hood of the car. He looks so focused, biting his lip, trying to find the perfect shot of the stars that night and leaves the camera for a long exposure shot. Lance smiles softly at his best friend from his chair, reaching for his hand when he sits down beside him. He rests his head on Keith’s shoulder. The other boy hums, wrapping an arm around Lance and it’s quiet. Lance plays with the bracelets on Keith’s wrists, with his hands, running his own fingers across them, mapping every line, every bump, every soft spot.

Sometimes, they play their never ending game of questions. Other times, Lance listens to Keith name every single star in the sky, every constellation, every story of the myth behind them. Sometimes, though, like tonight, it’s quiet. And it’s lovely. They don’t need to say a thing.

 

.  ⊹ 　　   　 ✵     
 　  ✦  ⋆     　　 .  
　　　　 ✹ 　　   　  
 　 　　　　　　　 　 　.  
 . 　　  　    ✵    
* . 　 　　 ·   ·  *

 

Lance isn’t sure when he and Keith became sort of a package deal. But the fact is, they are, and their friends know it, too. Lance can see it in their friends’ comments and questions like, _what are you and Keith up to this weekend?_ or _have you and Keith watched the newest Star Wars movie?_ It isn’t just Lance anymore. It’s always Lance and Keith, Keith and Lance. Together. It makes Lance feel all warm inside. So when Hunk asks him if he and Keith are making it to his party this weekend, Lance feels the familiar warmth in his stomach and he assents. Especially since Hunk promised _only the chill guys_ from his football team are coming.

Lance is hanging out with Pidge and Hunk at Hunk’s huge house. They’ve been playing Smash Bros for a while (Pidge has been crushing them, as per usual) and listening to Pidge complain about the fact that she didn’t have a way to transport her robot to the upcoming competition because Matt is using the car that day and both her parents are going to be busy.

“Why don’t you ask Keith to drive you?” Lance says, groaning after Peach falls into the void again and throws the controller back to Hunk in defeat. “He almost always drives me anywhere.”

Pidge snorts. “Yeah, but that’s because you guys are in love with each other, or whatever.” Lance feels his cheeks heat up, _what_ ? In _love_? But Pidge continues before Lance can fall into that thought spiral. “I’ll ask him, though. Thanks.” She shoots Lance a smile and turns back to beating Hunk as Luigi on the screen.

Lance sinks back into the couch, pulling his knees to his chest and lets his mind drift.

_In love, huh._

˚      .   　　  .  
 *  . 　　 + 　 . 　  
.   ˚    
·  *      
.　　· .  
　 + 　· *  
　　 * · ✷

 

Lance isn’t quite sure when it shifted. But Pidge is right, you know. He is. He _is_ in love with Keith. Lance supposes it was slow, gradual, like the shift of the seasons or the change in their town. Somewhere, between the streets and houses that don’t change, sometime, while sharing milkshakes and TV show commentary, somehow, while counting down stars and tracing constellations out of Keith’s freckles, Lance had fallen in love.

Lance thought he had fallen in love before, back in freshman year, with Nyma the pretty cheerleader. But he was wrong, he can see that now. With Nyma, everything felt like whirlwind of kisses and teeth and touches and hurt and heartbreak. But he can see now, with Keith, everything is still. Time stretches for miles and miles, infinite in its stillness, infinite in its flawlessness. Infinite in love.

Lance sees that now, as they sit on the black Civic in front of his house. He can see it so clearly when he pulls away from Keith’s mouth. He stares at the boy in front of him, beautiful under the moonlight, eyes wide with emotion and mouth red from the kisses Lance had stolen.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lance whispers, watching Keith’s eyelashes flutter prettily under the compliment. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

Keith leans in to kiss him again, hard and needy. It’s beautiful, so beautiful. Lance is so in love. Keith kisses Lance’s jaw, Lance’s neck. He’s the one. A kiss on his lips. The one the one the one. A soft kiss on his cheek. Keith’s the one.

Lance holds Keith’s face in his hands, just far enough away to see him properly, still feeling Keith’s breath on his cheeks. _How would you feel_ , Lance ponders, running his thumb alongside Keith’s cheekbone tenderly, over the dusting of freckles, _if I told you I loved you?_ Lance pushes Keith’s hair back from his face, sees the boy he’s so in love with lean into the touch with a soft smile.

Lance, with trembling hands and the gear shift digging into his thigh, kisses Keith once more.

✵   ⋆  　  
 +  ✦ 　　　　　  ✦ 　 　　　  
*   　　 　   　 ⊹    
.  .   ⋆ 　　　　　  * 　 . 　  
 　 . 　　 　　　　　 · 　    
　*  .  　 ✫   　　 ✦  
　 ✹  .

 

 _What are we?_ He wants to ask Keith so badly, but his tongue always locks the words away. They’ve never really talked about their relationship, it has never felt necessary. But now, Lance feels like he _needs_ to know, what with college and the future creeping up on them without showing signs of slowing down. And Lance despairs at the thought of losing Keith.

College was something they’ve never really talked about, either. But only because Lance has been staunchly avoiding the topic. He knows Keith has his mind set on doing astronomy with a minor in photography, but Lance has no idea where he is planning on going. And well, he doesn’t know about himself either. He knows he’d like to go to Austin. He’s already sent in his application and all, but the money…

Lance can’t bring himself to check his applications’ status or talk to Mamá about them or the FAFSA forms either. And now, on top of the routinary anxiety over school and money and the future, there’s Keith.

Lance’s heart does a little flip whenever he thinks of the boy who has steadily become one of the most important things in his life. God, he doesn’t want to lose him. He marvels at the fact that he has lived down the street from the Koganes for his entire life, and it’s only been a few months since Keith and him finally came together like magnets. Lance is sometimes filled with regret, of all the time they could’ve spent together, but a part of him knows it had to be like this. That this is what was meant to happen, how their story is meant to go.  

Whenever Lance is holding Keith’s hand, every single worry melts away though. And if he’s sure of something, he’s sure of this. Of how right it feels to share his time and space and love with Keith. Being with him, hearing to him talk about space or aliens or his mom’s delicious kimchi. Being with him, holding him or comforting him or blowing raspberries into the crook of his neck and listening to him giggle and try to push him away before drawing Lance back in for a sweet kiss.

 _Do you love me, too?_ Lance wants to ask Keith so badly. _Do you want me, do you care about me, do you want to be with me? Today, tomorrow, stretching time like we do, forever?_ But his tongue locks the words inside his throat, always.

 

. ✵   *  　　  　 　　  
　 　 　　 * 　　  　　　  
　 ⋆  　   　　 ✵    
✺ ✵  　 ✫ 　*  ✫ 　　 　　  
* 　  *  ✺ 　　 *  *

 

When Keith texts, Lance always answers. Even when he is a bit drunk and Pidge is falling asleep on his shoulder at Hunk’s party.

 _I’m on the roof_ , Keith’s text reads. Lance grins and untangles himself from Pidge with a quick apology when she complains, making grabby hands at him.

“You’re a good pillow,” Pidge says, mourning the loss of her cuddle buddy. Lance chuckles and gives her a loud, wet kiss on her cheek that makes her squirm. “I take it back.”

Lance sticks his tongue out at her. “You love me.”

“God help me,” Pidge moans, kicking him out of the couch properly. “Go to Keith, leave me alone.”

“Don’t miss me too much,” Lance tells Pidge.

“Fuck you,” she says, words a bit slurred, and Lance stumbles across Hunk’s stuffy living room, full of teenagers drinking alcohol for the first time. Lance catches a glimpse of Hunk at the kitchen, entertaining the chill guys from the football team, loud booming laughs echoing across the room. Lance makes his way upstairs and slips outside through a door in Hunk’s laundry room to a small terrace with a ladder going up to the roof.

He finds Keith there, sitting on top of the roof tiles. The boy turns to shoot Lance a smile when he hears him coming, and Lance’s heart melts a little.

“Hey, babe,” Keith says. Lance doesn’t know when that started either, but it always brings butterflies to his stomach. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. Keith pats the spot on the roof next to him. “C’mere.”

Lance obliges happily and lets out a surprised gasp when Keith automatically wraps himself around Lance. Keith is warm, contrasting the cold January breeze, and he’s got Lance on a comfortable grip around his waist, his head on Lance’s shoulder.

“Mmm,” Keith hums, cheeks pink from the small amount of drinking he did earlier that night. “You’re a good pillow.”

Lance laughs, putting his arm around Keith’s shoulders and getting more comfortable in their position. “I’ve been told.”

“Whaaaaat.” Keith pulls away, looking adorably drunkenly scandalized. His pout looks so kissable. “Who else is cuddling you!!”

Lance pulls Keith back to him with a giggle, pecking his lips like he wants to. “Doesn’t matter. You’re my favorite cuddle buddy anyway.”

“Good,” Keith replies, pressing his lips to Lance’s cheek and returning to his position on Lance’s shoulder. “I better be.”

“You’re my favorite everything,” Lance admits, watching Keith blush next to him. He squeezes Lance’s hand.

“You are, to me, too,” Keith says quietly. Keith’s voice sounds soft and vulnerable against the quiet night and Lance feels breathlessly in love. Keith plays with Lance’s hands, tenderly, and sighs comfortably.

“Hey, Lance?” Keith says after a while.

“Hmm?”

Keith turns his eyes up at the sky. “Do you--do you think aliens are actually out there?” Keith doesn’t wait for an answer. “Because I do. I mean, whenever I look at the sky, I see so many stars. Even more when I take pictures of it. And like, you know, probably all those stars have planets. And maybe places with conditions like Earth’s. They call them the Goldilocks conditions, you know. Not too hot, not too cold. Not too near to the sun, but not too far. Not too big, not too small.” Lance watched Keith talk, the perfect boy with the shining lilac eyes, intelligent eyes, even through the fog of alcohol. They are eyes that can see things light years away, into worlds unknown to Lance, but that’s why Keith shares his thoughts with him. Because he wants Lance to know, to see the world like he does. Or at least try to. It’s precious, and Lance can listen to him talk forever.

“If you think about it,” Keith continues. “It’s kind of incredible that the universe manages to create such complix--complexity. Especially when the universe’s natural state is so chaotic. But it happens. And we’re here.” Keith sighs again. “That’s really really fucking awesome. Think about it, Lance. Are you thinking about it?”

Lance smiles. “What, you think I’m not capable of it?”

Keith rolls his eyes and pinches Lance’s hip. “Stop that,” he says. “I’m being serious. Think about it, okay? Think about it. Humans are so complex and so fragile and it’s so easy for us to die. But like, we’re alive, somehow, despite everything. And like, we’re conscious, right? Think about it. We can think! And we can feel. And we can connect.” Keith pauses, turns to Lance and sees his eyes wide. He smiles, because he loves it that Lance can understand him. Because he can. Lance feels it. They are so small, yet so big, insignificant and so special. He feels really glad to be alive, despite the incredible odds, and really glad to be here, in Hunk’s roof, holding Keith, watching the glittering stars. He feels so full, so alive, so grateful for every decision that led him to this place. He grins at Keith, so in love. How is it even possible to be so in love with someone, to share something with that someone, so perfect and right? _How would you feel if I told you I loved you?_ Lance wonders again, but the words don’t come.

“And we’re here,” Lance says instead, pretty much summarizing the beauty of their situation.

“And we’re here,” Keith repeats, squeezing Lance’s hand in his.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

And they stay like that, holding each other until the sun rises.

✫ 　  . 　   　　 　  
*  　　.  ✺  　  　.  
　　　*  *　　✵  　　  
　  .   ⋆  　　　　  
 ·　　　　　　   　 　　·  
　　 +  ✫ 　　　　　* 　　　  
　.  ⊹ 　　　　　　 ✦ 　　 .

 

Time is a funny thing, Lance thinks. Sometimes, it feels like it passes at a glacial pace, leisurely, slow. At the same time, though, it rushes past so quick it blindsides him. It’s March again, somehow, and finals are upon them and there’s an email from UT Austin on his inbox he can’t bring himself to open.

He stares at the little notification number on his phone, as if it’s been taunting him for the past two days. Why can’t he just open it and get it over with? But, fuck, what if he didn’t get in? He groans and throws the phone to the backseat of Keith’s car, not wanting to think about it. The other boy looks at Lance, eyes sparkling with curiosity, before he turns back to the road. Their street ahead of them is illuminated by the full moon and the headlights, and Keith slows down to a stop in front of Lance’s house. He parks the car and eyes Lance again.

“It’s been a year,” Lance speaks up over the soft music they’ve been playing.

“Huh?” Keith replies, cocking an eyebrow.

“It’s been a year since you started driving me home, did you know?”

“How could I not?” Keith tells him with a smile, grabbing Lance’s hand and squeezing gently. He leans across the car, so close to Lance that he can feel Keith’s breath tickling his lips. “It’s been the best year I’ve ever had,” he whispers and Lance kisses him.

When Lance kisses Keith, he always answers. He wraps his arms around Lance’s neck and plays with the hair on his nape, pulling him closer. They’ve kissed a thousand kisses and still, Lance can’t get enough. Can never get enough. Probably will never get enough.

Part of him can’t believe it’s been a whole year of this. A year of stealing kisses in Lance’s front yard, of holding Keith’s hand as he drives through town. A year of sharing music and sleepy mornings and midnight adventures and quiet afternoons. A year of loving this boy so much his heart feels like it’s going to burst. It feels too little and too much.

Lance pulls his mouth away from Keith’s and cups Keith’s head in his hands. His thumbs trace the dusting of freckles on Keith’s cheekbones, trace his nose, his lips. He stares at the beautiful boy in front of him and wonders…

Lance pushes Keith’s hair back from his face, like he’s done so many times. Keith always leans into the touch. He smiles at Lance softly and Lance wonders…

“Keith, I--” his voice cracks, making him blush.

“Yeah?” Keith says, voice soft and encouraging.

“Iloveyou,” Lance finally says, the words stumbling out of his lips eagerly, feeling long overdue. Keith’s eyes widen.

“Lance--”

“I love you,” he says again, pressing his lips to Keith’s quickly once more. “I love you and I want to be with you and I know that we’re graduating in a few months and everything but I just don’t want this to end.” Lance takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know where you’re going after this, I don’t know what’s happening or what the future has in store for us and I don’t care. I love you. And I don’t want this to end.”

“Lance,” Keith repeats, voice rough. His eyes are foggy with tears and Lance’s breath catches. “I love you too.” He pecks Lance’s lips softly. “So much. And I want to be with you too.”

Lance’s lips let out a wet, happy chuckle, his own eyes threatening to spill over. And somehow, the future and graduation and the email don’t seem so scary anymore. Not with Keith beside him. He knows there’s still things they need to talk about, but for now, he’s happy. He’s so happy.

He presses their foreheads together and rubs his nose against Keith’s.

“Cool.”

“Cool."

✫      ✹            ✫ 　 　

˚ 　 · 　　 ·　

　 ·         　· ⋆ 　 ⊹ .　 * 　

　　　 　　 　 · ✹ 　 ✫

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought! Concrit is always welcome.
> 
> Say hi on twitter! @lanceconpecas (which stands for Lance with Freckles in Spanish)


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